Cupid Doesn't Believe In Love (On hold)

3 ? | Cupid's Not A Hot Chocolate Fan

It broke and decided it wanted blood as payment for the damages I accidentally caused.

Eight stitches later, and I learned to watch my steps better.

We exit a thin treeline, and right across the street is Lou’s, the name displayed in big red letters on the roof.

“Ohh, so that's Lou's.” Eros nods his head in understanding.

Then he moseys his way to the street, crossing without any regard for the traffic. I blink, dazedly watching him weave and spin around traffic like he has zero qualms about danger.

When he comes dangerously close to being run over, someone blares their car's horn.

“Use the crosswalk, you idiot!” An angry Mom stops to shout from her minivan window; her kids wear a jaw-dropped expression in the back seat. “Do not follow by example, kids; doing something reckless like that guy—”

She drives off before we can hear the rest of her speech.

On a red light, I look both ways, finding it clear, and I jog across the street. Eros stands, hands shoved into his pockets, rocking back on his heels, grinning when I come to stand next to him.

“Do not walk in front of traffic next time, Pyro!” I scold, smacking him in the shoulder hard.

“Why? Because someone has something better to do than scrape my corpse off some pavement?” Eros rolls his eyes, looking over at me the way a teenager does when their parents have done something to annoy them.

“No, dumbass, because you could have been seriously hurt!”

Angrily, I march my way to the diner, yanking the door open and rushing inside and out of the cold. The door closes behind me with a silent swoosh, and I glare at Eros through the glass as I tap the tip of my toes on the mat by the door, banging off the excess snow.

“Lennon! You're later than usual for your daily cup of hot cocoa; you didn't trip in those damn bushes again, did you?” Jazzy grasps my shoulders with firm hands, gaze flickering over me for any new injuries.

Eros enters the diner, mimicking my actions by tapping his shoes off.

“I'm fine, just ran into a Pyro on the way here.” I pull my scarf down and then point a thumb over my shoulder.

“So you just decided a stranger lighting fires would make a good friend?!” Jazzy’s eyes widen, and then she pulls me away from him.

An idea forms in my head, a way I can get back at him for scaring me moments ago. I fight my grin as I rapidly think up some crazy, elaborate tale, one that will hopefully leave him gobsmacked.

“Oh, he's truly a pitiful soul, Jazzy. He got rejected by twelve different girls again. It's not because they had dates for tonight. He even bought them all a dozen roses! Poor guy was bawling his eyes out from all the rejection when I found him burning the roses in a park’s grill. He was shedding enough trees that he was able to put out the fire after he had no more flowers to burn.” I smile encouragingly as I pat Eros on the back. “Don't worry, there's always next year! I'm sure your cats won't reject your company four years in a row.”

Eros is silently staring at me, and I start to wonder if I took this just a little too far.

“I still can't believe even February rejected me.” His shoulders droop, head dropping forward as he makes sniffling sounds.

“February?” Jazzy whispers, eyes darting between the two of us baffled.

“Lennon is right; I was rejected by my cats. I just wanted to spend this night curled up on the couch with a fuzzy cuddle buddy, watching romantic comedies! Was that too much to ask for? Instead I was rejected by my cats, all twelve of them. January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, and even December!”